“Now, boys,” said Charley, “wouldn’t it be fun if we should have a real adventure to-day? something romantic; something worth while—eh, Marmaduke?”
Marmaduke’s eyes flashed like a persecuted hero’s whose case appears hopeless. However, he did nothing desperate, he simply said, “Boys, some day or another we shall light on something romantic—something awful! I’ve always felt it. Then we will pry into the mystery until we unravel it.”
Will, Charles, and Stephen, furtively exchanged glances. If their designs should succeed, Marmaduke would have a mystery to pry into sooner than he bargained for.
Just as they entered the woods they heard voices; and on looking about they caught sight of three little boys sitting astride of a decayed log. One seemed to have a paper of raisins, from which he was helping himself and the other two.
“Hush!” Charley whispered. “They haven’t seen us yet; so hide behind the bushes, and I’ll play a pretty trick on them.”
Without the least hesitation, without looking to see whether they were sitting on grass or thorns, they crouched down. Charley “knew himself,” and the boys obeyed him promptly.
Seeing that they were all concealed, he advanced boldly towards the three small boys.
“Hollo, Tim!” he exclaimed. “What have you got there?”
“Raisins,” Tim answered laconically.